Searching for Steve
by Janet2
Summary: A celebration for the whole family. STORY COMPLETE
1. The Mail

**_Searching For Steve_**

**__**

**_Chapter One – The Mail_**

Pounding along the sand Steve Sloan covered the beach in his long, easy strides as the early morning sun began to warm the trillions of grains of sand under his feet. He loved the feel of the sun on his face and the breeze in his hair. Living by the ocean was an integral part of his life and he couldn't imagine not being able to do wake up every morning to the sight, sounds and smell of the ocean. Raising his wrist he looked at his watch, reluctantly turned and began to make his way back to the beach house.

Mark had awoken much to his disgust, at his usual time even though it was his day off. After trying and failing to get back to sleep he decided that he may as well get up and have some breakfast. Wandering out of his bedroom, pulling his robe around him Mark noticed that there were a few envelopes lying on the wooden floor by the front door. Treading lightly down the couple of steps that led to it Mark retrieved the mail and continued on into the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes later Steve entered the kitchen his hair still wet from his shower to find Mark sitting on one of the bar stools happily devouring a piece of toast. 

"Good morning Dad," he said, "I didn't expect to see you up. Isn't today your day off?"

"It certainly is," Mark agreed, "I just wish I could turn my internal clock off as easily as I can my alarm."

Pouring himself a coffee Steve sat back down next to his father and deftly reached across to steal a piece of toast from Marks' plate.

"Hey!" Mark protested.

Steve grinned and bit into the toast. 

"By the way," Mark said a little later, "there is some mail for you."

Reaching out to take the thick, white envelope from his father Steve put down his toast and, sliding his finger under the flap, opened it up. Looking inside he saw another, smaller envelope and a folded sheet of paper. He pulled them both out and unfolded what turned out to be a letter.  The sheet was a good quality and had an address embossed at the top in the centre, the address of a well known and reputable firm of lawyers. 

'_Dear Mr. Sloan,'_ the letter began,

_'We have been instructed, as executors of the late Mrs. A. Devanys (formerly Miss A Tyler) will, to pass this letter on to you. _

_We have no knowledge of the contents, however if you have any questions that we may be able to answer, please contact us at the above address.'_

"Is everything okay son?" Mark asked, noting the look on Steve's face, a mixture of confusion and sadness.

Holding out the letter towards his father Steve turned his attention to the second envelope. It was an old one and the handwriting on the front was slightly faded. Although it had been well over twenty years Steve immediately recognised Amy's writing. They had been dating around the time that Steve's mom had died. It had been Amy who had kept him from going insane in those early days and Steve had been devastated when she had left without a word. He hadn't been able to face going to see her parents as he was in the midst of grieving for his mother and so he never really found out where she went and why. Steve turned the envelope over in his hands hoping that the contents might solve that particular mystery. The fact that he was holding the envelope because Amy was dead was something that he would put away to be dealt with later. 

"Amy Tyler?" Mark queried, "Why do I remember that name?"

"We were dating when Mom died," Steve replied.

A look of enlightenment crossed Marks' face, "I remember her. Didn't she leave rather suddenly?"

"Mmmmmm." Steve's reply was distracted, "Maybe this letter will tell me why."

"You'll never find out unless you read it," Mark encouraged.

Opening the envelope Steve pulled out a number of pale pink sheets of paper and, despite himself, he smiled. How he remembered that paper, Amy had a thing for the colour pink and almost everything she owned was pink.  Without thinking Steve lifted the paper to his nose and inhaled, half expecting to smell the aroma of the perfume he had bought for her last birthday before she left. It was an obscure, short lived, fragrance and he only bought it because of its name, Pink Lady. Amy had loved it and wore it all the time, even sprinkling a few drops of it onto every letter that she wrote to Steve. 

Taking a deep breath Steve unfolded the pages and began to read.


	2. The Letter

**_Chapter 2 – The Letter_**

_February 17, 1986___

_My darling Steve,_

_I know that this letter will not reach you for many years and that, as you sit reading it, you do so knowing that I am dead. I am so sorry never to have seen you again, to hold you, kiss you. I still miss you even after all this time. _

_I don't know where to begin with what I have to tell you. I am sure that you were hurt when I left without a word. Believe me, it was not my choice.  If it had been, I would have stayed but, back then, my parents made my decisions for me. ALL of them!!_

_There is no easy, no gentle way to write what I am about to so I will just say it – you are a father.  Remember our night on the sand? It was more life affirming than either of us guessed it would be. My Mom caught me throwing up a few times and she took me to the doctor in case I was ill. My Mom was the one that was ill when the doctor told her I was pregnant! Who knew you could get pregnant from doing it for the first time? We certainly didn't. We were too much in love to think about anything as mundane as consequences weren't we?_

_Anyway, I didn't tell them it was you because you had enough to deal with in losing your Mom. I told them it was a guy I met at a dance. I don't know what freaked them out more, the fact that their little girl was pregnant or that she didn't know the name of the father. My parents decided that they couldn't stand the disgrace and sent me away to my Aunts'. That is why I left so suddenly. I couldn't contact you and tell you why because I knew that you would have owned up and we would both have been in deep._

_My aunt was really kind to me, so much so that I stayed with her after the baby was born, but she agreed with my parents that I was too young to look after a child and they insisted that I had him adopted. _

_Our son was born on __Feb 17, 1976__ a beautiful healthy son. I named him Steve after you; I don't know what his adoptive parents called him. They let me have one hug and take a couple of photos, then they took him away - ten years ago today. I only have to shut my eyes and I am back in that room, cuddling our son for the first and only time._

_I can't believe so much time has passed, it only seems like yesterday. _

_Oh Steve, how it hurt when the door closed behind the woman who was dealing with the adoption. I started to cry and I don't think I stopped for a week. There's a hole inside of me that I don't think will ever be filled. _

_I was allowed to write a letter to Steve that the agency gave to his adoptive parents for them to pass onto him when they felt he was old enough. The agency assured me that they would do that and I have to hold onto that thought. _

_I don't know how old you are as you read this letter. Whether you have a family of your own (I hope so) or what you have done with your life. I do know one thing and that is Steve deserves to know who his father is. _

_I am putting one of my two photos of him in with this letter and will write the address of the adoption agency on the back. I hope that they will be able to help you, if you choose to look for Steve._

_I will always love you_

_Amy._

Whilst Steve had been reading, Mark had been moving about the kitchen making some more toast for the pair of them. He sat back down as Steve came to end of Amy's letter, the utter stillness of his son alerting him to the fact that something was wrong. 

"Steve?" he spoke softly, concern evident in his voice.

Wordlessly Steve handed over the letter and picked up the pink envelope again and looked inside. Tucked into a corner was a small, black and white, photograph of a young woman holding a baby. A small sound of distress escaped Steve and Mark looked up from his reading. 

"Steve?" again that one syllable spoke volumes. 

"It's my son," Steve managed to utter, a tear escaping from each eye and running down each side of his face, almost racing each other to see which would reach his chin first. 

Rising, Mark moved to stand behind his son and looked over his shoulder at a photograph of the grandchild he had always wanted and had begun to despair that he would ever see.  A small gasp of recognition escaped him and Steve looked up.

"He looks exactly like you did as a baby," Mark said in a stunned whisper. 

"I have a son," Steve whispered again, still with a tone of utter disbelief in his voice. 

Marks' brain suddenly did the math and he said, "1976? Steve, you were only seventeen!"

A hint of irritation crossed Steve's mind at the irrelevance of the comment at such a moment and then he relaxed, once a parent always a parent he thought. A spasm of pain crossed his face at the irony in his last thought. He had been a parent for nearly twenty four years and he hadn't known anything about it.

Realising that he had been slightly tactless Marks' tone, when he spoke again, was gentler.

"What happened?" he asked.


	3. The Memory

**_Chapter 3 – The Memory_**

June 1975

Steve sat on the beach looking out over the ocean. He may have been looking, but the tears in his eyes prevented from seeing very much at all. He shivered a little in the evening air, the sun was going down and a chill had begun to descend on the beach. He wiped the back of one hand over his eyes spreading the tears in a long, dirty streak in its wake. His mind was numb with shock. Although he had known how ill his mom was Steve hadn't, deep down, really expected her to die. A sob escaped him as the words formed in his mind. Somehow the whole day seemed like a sick nightmare and he kept expecting to hear his mom's voice calling from the deck, telling him to put a jumper on. The tears again overflowed and ran, like two silent waterfalls, down his cheeks. He would never hear his mom's voice again and, for a second, that realisation threatened to overwhelm him and his chest felt so tight with anguish that he had to fight for every breath. 

A hand coming to rest on his shoulder made him jump. He looked up and through his tears saw the hazy outline of someone standing next to him.

"Steve?" the figure spoke and he realised that it was Amy, his girlfriend for the last six months.

"She's dead, Amy," he managed to say, "Mom is dead."

Swiftly sitting down beside him and enfolding him in her arms Amy replied, "I know, Honey, I just heard. I am so sorry."

The tenuous hold which Steve had kept on his emotions since he had left the hospital, finally gave way and he collapsed against Amy sobbing as though his heart was broken, which indeed it was.

Unable to think of anything to say Amy simply continued to hold Steve in her arms, occasionally dropping soft kisses on the disordered locks nestled against her bosom and making soft, indistinct soothing noises which only she and Steve could hear. Slowly Steve managed to regain control of himself and the sobs which had wracked his body gave way to an occasional sniff punctuated by deep, heavy breaths. He sat up and, for the first time since Amy had arrived, looked at her with clear, although still glistening, eyes.

"I'm sorry, Amy," he said.

"For what?" she demanded knowing full well that big, macho Steve Sloan was about to re-assert himself, "For loving your mom, for being sad that she's gone, for being man enough to cry? Which?"

A ghost of a smile flickered on Steve's face for he knew that Amy hated his macho image as it wasn't in any way like the real Steve and that she never failed to take an opportunity to prick the bubble. 

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For being here when I needed you," Steve cupped Amy's face with both hands, "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied, pulling Steve towards her for a kiss.

It started off very gently, as their kisses often did, but Amy sensed there was a different quality to this one, a sort of desperation. Gradually, imperceptibly, the kiss deepened as Steve's mouth began to move against Amy's persuading her lips to open allowing the tip of his tongue to dart in and out between them to tantalise hers with the briefest of contact before retreating.

"Amy?" Steve's voice was a question.

Opening her eyes that she hadn't been aware of closing Amy looked at him.

"Please?" he asked, his eyes echoing the plea in his voice.

Amy stared at him for a long silent while at the young man in front of her. She knew what he was asking and she had to make a decision. They had been dating for six months and their relationship had grown ever more physical, but always stopping short of full consummation. Many nights Amy had laid awake after a date with Steve, her nerve endings tingling from their naïve, inexpert fumbling in the back of Steve's old station wagon, wondering what it would be like to 'go all the way', as her parents delicately called it. Steve had never pushed her to do anything she was uncomfortable with, indeed it was often he who called a halt to things when it seemed like they could be getting out of hand. 

Amy came to a decision. She reached up and removed Steve's hands from her face and carefully re-positioned them, one on each breast. Then before Steve could respond she reached down and placed her hand against the zipper of his jeans, gently applying pressure to the bulge which quickly appeared. Her eyes softening Amy laid back onto the sand, pulling Steve with her.

Afterwards as Amy lay on the sand she felt Steve sit up and she opened her eyes to realise that he was, once again, crying. Swiftly sitting up, pulling her blouse around her, she wound her arms around Steve's torso.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"We shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have made you," he cried.

"You didn't, Steve." Amy asserted, "You didn't take anything from me that I didn't want to give."

"But I shouldn't have asked."

"I'm glad you did. Your mom has just died and you needed to know that life will carry on. So did I, I think, and what could be more life affirming than making love?" Amy kissed Steve's neck before continuing, "I will never regret what happened between us tonight and I'll always cherish the memory."

_Present day_

Steve's eyes glistened with tears as he finished speaking. 

"Amy was right, Dad," he said, "I did want to prove that life, my life, would keep going. I just didn't realise that we weren't just affirming life but creating it as well."

For a few seconds he was silent and then, in a voice filled with emotion, he said, "What am I going to do?"

"We are going to find your son," Mark responded firmly.


	4. The Decision

**_Chapter 4 – The Decision_**

Steve sighed.

"I need some time to get my head around all of this, Dad," he said, "I don't think that I can go straight out and search for him."

"I understand, Son," Mark replied, reaching out and resting a hand on his son's arm, "What are you going to do now?"

Looking at his watch Steve replied, "I'm giving evidence in court today and then back to the precinct to catch up on some paperwork."

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Steve almost ran down the court house steps to reach his car, Cheryl following in his wake. Wrenching open the car door he jumped in, slammed the door behind him, and sat waiting for Cheryl. A few seconds later his partner got in, in a manner slightly less resembling a hurricane. Closing the door behind her she turned in her seat and said, "Okay Sloan, what was all that about back there?"

"All what?" 

"All what!!" Cheryl was incredulous, "I have never seen such an experienced cop like you perform so badly on the witness stand. It was only because the evidence that we had was overwhelming that we got a conviction. Quite frankly, Steve, you were lucky to get away with the ass chewing that you got."

By this time Steve's anger had started  to dissipate as the sting of the judges words began to fade and his innate honesty forced him to admit the truth in them.

"Just chalk it up to a bad day," Steve replied, pulling the car out into traffic as he spoke.  

Quickly fastening her seat belt Cheryl looked across and said, "I know you, Steve, there is **_WAY_** more to this than a bad day, but you obviously aren't ready to tell me. No problem, I can wait."

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

"Mark!" Amanda exclaimed, "What is the matter with you?"

It was a week later and for seven days Jesse and Amanda had watched their normally efficient friend lose files, drop equipment and generally seem like he was on another planet. 

Mark looked up and smiled tiredly, "I'm sorry guys, I have got something on my mind."

"Would that be the same something that's bothering Steve?" Jesse queried, "He hasn't been with us this week either."

"Can we do anything to help?" Amanda wanted to know.

Mark looked at Amanda and enlightenment spread across his face.

"You are **_exactly_** the person we need!" he exclaimed, "I have to talk to Steve first, but if he agrees, would you both come to lunch this Saturday?"

Jesse and Amanda readily said yes and, with that, had to be content. 

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Steve had obviously agreed to whatever Mark had suggested for there was no retraction of the lunch invitation and, at the agreed time, both Amanda and Jesse were sat on the deck at the beach house sipping a long, cold drink.

"Mark, what is going on?" Jesse couldn't take the strain anymore.

Before Mark could answer Steve stepped out onto the deck and spoke,

"I need your help."

"Anything, Buddy, you know that." Jesse said, leaving Amanda to nod in silent agreement.

"I need you both to read this first," Steve said, handing a photocopy of Amy's letter to them, "then we can talk."

In silence Jesse and Amanda read the pages in front of them. Jesse, being the faster reader, finished first and opened his mouth to bombard Steve with questions. Mark held a finger up to his mouth warning him to keep silent for a while longer. It took Amanda another minute to finish and when she looked up she had tears in her eyes.

"Oh Steve," she said, rising to her feet, moving towards her friend and enveloping him in a hug that said far more than words ever could.

Eventually releasing Steve, Amanda sat back down and she said softly, "Do you want to tell us about it?"

Sitting down in the only empty seat Steve told his story again. When he had finished Jesse had joined Amanda with tears in his eyes.

"Wow," Jesse breathed, "how are you feeling?"

"I honestly don't know, Jess." Steve replied, "A week ago the biggest problem in my life was working out the rotas at Bob's. Now, I have to get my head around the fact that I am a father and have been for over two decades. I just wish I knew what sort of life he has had, if he's been happy."

Fully aware that this one fact, as much as the shock of the news itself, was weighing heavily on his son's mind, Mark spoke.

"Amanda, tell us what being fostered was like for you."

"I have the best parents I could possibly wish for," she began, "I was a little rebellious at the beginning, but Mom and Dad just kept letting me know that they loved me and eventually, that became enough."

"You were old enough to know what was happening." Steve said, "but what happens if you are adopted as a baby?"

"Well, many of the children that I work with were adopted as babies and they all seem really happy. Their adoptive families have all been honest with them, letting them know from a very early age that they were specially chosen. It really has worked well." she laid a gentle hand on Steve's arm, "I am sure that your son has had a wonderful life and is very happy."

"What can I do to find him?" Steve wanted to know.

He had spent much of the last week thinking about what he wanted to do.  He finally decided that if he were in his son's position he would be hoping that his father **_would_** want to know him. Amanda was just about to explain the procedure to Steve when Mark spoke.

"There is something that we haven't thought about."

Everyone's eyes turned towards him. 

"Apart from Amy," Mark began, "there are three other people who were aware of your son's birth."

"Her parents and her aunt!" Steve exclaimed. 

"I think that it's time you visited the other set of grandparents," Mark concluded. 


	5. The Visit

**_Chapter 5 – The Visit_**

**__**

Three days later Steve found himself standing nervously on the sidewalk facing a well kept house. Apprehensively he fingered his tie, feeling very much like the teenager he had been the last time he had seen Amy's parents. As he stood there Steve pondered one of the many questions that he and Mark had posed for themselves over the last few days. Why hadn't he gone to see Amy's parents to find out the reason that she left?

On the face of it there was no logical, rational reason for it. However, Steve hadn't been capable of anything that resembled either of those emotions. The girl he loved had left without a word, leaving him to find out about it through a mutual friend and that had hurt. He'd known that he should find out where she had gone but he simply did not have the emotional resources to deal with it. 

Bringing his thoughts back to the present Steve took a deep breath and made his way up the path towards the front door. Ringing the bell, he waited and a few seconds later he heard footsteps coming towards him. The door opened and Amy's mom stood there. She looked very much the same as she had nearly a quarter of a century previously, although with a few more lines around the face. 

"Can I help you?" she asked, making Steve realise that he had been standing there just staring into her face.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, "I was just thinking how little you have changed, Mrs. Tyler."

A confused expression crossed Amy's mother's face, 

"Do I know you young man?" she asked.

A grin flickered on Steve's face as he replied, "My name is Steve Sloan, I used to date your daughter, Amy."

At the mention of her daughter's name Alison Tyler's face dropped.

"I'm sorry," when she spoke, her voice was soft and filled with grief, "but my daughter died recently."

"I know," Steve replied, "and it's partly that I have come to see you about."

The confused look from earlier on returned to Alison Tyler's face, "I still don't understand…………..Steve, was it?"

Nodding, Steve continued, "May I come in?"

Pulling the door a little closer to herself Alison Tyler said, "I vaguely remember the name Steve Sloan but how do I know you are who you say you are?"

Reaching into his back pocket Steve pulled out his police ID and held it up so that Alison could read it.  She raised her eyebrows a little but opened the door and stepped back, allowing Steve to enter the house. 

Leading him along a very familiar hallway Alison said, "I really can't imagine why you want to talk to me about Amy's death."

Steve waited until they were both seated in the spacious lounge before he replied.

"I received a letter the other day from Amy," he began, ignoring the astonished gasp from the sofa, "it was written nearly fifteen years ago and concerns the son that she gave up for adoption. My son."

At these last two words Alison looked up, shock etched across her features. 

"Your son?" she exclaimed, "Amy told us that she didn't know the name of the father, that he was someone she met once at a dance."

"I brought the letter for you to read," Steve continued, holding out the pink paper towards Alison who took it.

Giving her a few minutes to read Steve let his gaze wander around the room in which he was seated. He hadn't been inside Amy's house that often when they were dating but he did remember the stunning view from the enormous picture window. Amy had loved that view and often spent hours just sitting and taking it in.

He became aware that Alison had finished the letter and was looking across at him.

"You didn't know that Amy was pregnant?" she asked.

"I had no idea." Steve responded, "All I knew was that one day Amy was here and the next she wasn't."

"I don't remember you coming around to find out if she was alright," Alison's tone was slightly acid.

"I know now that I should have done," he said, looking slightly dismayed, "but I was a seventeen year old who had just lost his mom and whose girlfriend had suddenly gone away. It's no excuse but, at the time, it was just one bad thing too many and I couldn't deal with it."

"What do you want of me?" Alison asked.

Taking a deep breath Steve spoke, "I want to know if you have had any contact with my son since he was adopted."

"That's not the way things worked back then," Alison answered.

"Then, no," Steve agreed, "but things have moved on in the last twenty odd years and there are a number of ways in which people can trace adopted family members."

"It was not something that we ever considered doing." Alison replied, a little stiffness entering her tone, "The decision was made twenty four years ago and neither I, nor my husband, ever considered re-thinking our decision."

It was on the tip of Steve's tongue to say that surely being their grandson was enough and then stopped himself. Alison Tyler may well be grieving the loss of her daughter but it seemed obvious that she hadn't ever grieved the loss of her grandson.

He stood and said,

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Tyler, I won't take up any more of it. Please accept my sincere condolences, Amy was a wonderful girl and I will always remember her with affection."

So saying he allowed Alison Tyler to show him out, walked back down the path and got into his car, driving off without a backwards glance. 

As he drove back to the beach house Steve began to think about the difference between the Tylers and his father. Mark hadn't hesitated for a second in his determination to search for the grandson of whom he had just learnt, whilst the Tylers had no intention of looking for the young man that they had known about for twenty four years. Steve shook his head. He knew his dad was terrific, but it took a situation like this to make him realise just how special Mark Sloan really was.

A steely determination came over Steve. He resolved to find his son and show him that his birth-father wanted to get to know him and that there was a grandfather, not to mention an extended, if slightly unconventional, family who also wanted the chance to be in his life.


	6. The Information

**_Chapter 6 – The Information _**

**__**

Satisifed, Amanda slid the large metal drawer back into its slot with a _thwump_ and closed the door behind it. Turning away, she moved back to her desk and signed her name to the end of the report. It always gave her a huge sense of satisfaction when she was able to pinpoint the cause of death, especially when she knew that it would aid the police in finding a killer. Looking at her watch, Amanda decided that she deserved a coffee break and, locking her lab door behind her, made her way to the doctor's lounge. Unusually, there was no-one there and so she was able to sit for a while enjoying the peace and quiet.

Gazing out through the glass partition Amanda saw the elevator doors open. Steve exited through them and began walking towards her. Recognising the expression on her friend's face she stood and, by the time he had reached the door, she had poured out a mug of coffee and had it held at the ready.  Steve took it with grateful smile and subsided into the nearest chair.

Amanda remained on her feet looking down at him and said, "Okay, Steve I know that look, what's up?"

Taking a large draught from the mug in his hands Steve replied, "I want to know how I can find my son."

Taking a seat next to her friend, Amanda answered, "Well, the best thing for you to do is to contact the people that dealt with your son's case. Whoever handled the adoption, in this case an agency, may arrange contact between and adoptee and a birth parent. It requires that both must sign a Consent for Contact form. Once both parties have signed this form, the agency can disclose the names and last known addresses so that direct contact can be made."

"So my son could have signed one of these consent form things years ago and be wondering why I haven't?"

"It's possible, Steve," Amanda admitted, "however, it could also be that he hadn't contacted the agency. Unfortunately, if that is the case, then they won't be able to do anything."

"I couldn't leave it at that, Amanda," Steve protested.

"You would have to, Steve." Amanda said, "You need to be prepared for the fact that your son may not want to make contact. I know it's a hard thing to think about, but you need to prepare yourself for that eventuality."

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Later that day Steve was sat at the large desk in his father's office, staring intently at the screen in front of him. He had been logged onto the Internet for half an hour and had just found a link which took him to the Consent for Contact form.  He printed it off and completed it, in a time which would have impressed and surprised Captain Newman who was convinced that Steve had an allergy to paperwork. After attaching a copy of Amy's letter to the form, he placed everything in an envelope and left it on the hall table ready for mailing. 

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Steve wasn't on duty the next day but he was due for a shift at Bob's so, after getting ready, he left the house. Placing the letter in the mail on his way there he arrived at Bob's, his emotions doing a rollercoaster between hope and despondency.

The lunchtime crowd did much to calm Steve's emotions and by the time Cheryl arrived at the tail end of the rush, he was able to greet her with a smile. 

 "Hi Steve," she said, "how's things?"

"Not too bad," he replied.

"Hmm," Cheryl didn't sound convinced, she had been his partner for too long to be fooled by his nonchalant attitude, "are you ready to tell me what's been going on with you recently?"

Steve looked at Cheryl and with a sigh sat down next to her.


	7. The Birthday

**_Chapter 7 – The Birthday_**

Mwaaaaaaaaaaah! 

The wet, sloppy kiss that landed on Nick Carter's right cheek work him up with a start. Up until that point he had been in the middle of a wonderful dream where he and Jenny had been on a yacht in the middle of the ocean, with the sun beating down on them and a gentle breeze caressing their skin. Reluctantly opening his eyes Nick looked straight into the blue-eyed gaze of his two year old son, Andy.

A huge smile lit up the chubby little face and Andy called out to an, as yet, unseen third person.

"Daddy 'wake. Mommy, Daddy 'wake!"

Through the door came a slim brunette carrying a tray loaded with presents, cards and a small, circular birthday cake with a candy stripe candle in the centre. Nick pushed himself upright and smiled at his two favourite people. Jenny flicked the hidden tray legs down and placed it down on the bed across her husband's legs, leaning forward to kiss him.

"Happy birthday, gorgeous," she whispered against his lips. 

"Sing now?" Andy piped up, inserting himself in between his parents.

"Yes, darling," Jenny answered, smiling down at her blond haired, blue eyed son, "Are you ready? One, two……."

"Birfday 'choo. Birfday 'choo. Birfday, birfday. Birfday 'choo." Andy sang, before his mom could finish her sentence. 

As Andy's falsetto voice faded into silence, Nick found tears welling up in his eyes before they overflowed to run down his cheeks. He looked up at Jenny and saw that she, too, was crying.

"When did you teach him that?" he managed to ask eventually.

"It's taken me the best part of a month," Jenny admitted, sitting down on the bed and pulling Andy onto her lap, "I can't tell you how many times I've had to stop him singing it to you. Open your presents, darling."

Not needing to be told twice, Nick began opening his parcels and very soon there was a satisfying pile of gifts on the bed next to him. He leant forward to kiss Jenny and Andy saying, "Thanks for all the presents, they're terrific."

"Well, "Jenny spoke as she stood up, "you stay there and open your cards while Andy and I get your breakfast. Then, when you are ready, we'll drop Andy off at Grandma and Grandpa C's and have the rest of the day together."

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Nick Snr. and Elizabeth Carter were standing by their front door as Nick, Jenny and Andy pulled up in their station wagon.  They both smiled proudly as Nick bounded up the steps towards them.

"Happy birthday, Son," Elizabeth said, hugging Nick close to her and planting a kiss on his face

"Hi, Mom. Hi,Pop," he said, "Thanks for having Andy today."

"You know we love having him," she continued, reaching out to take a squealing, squirming Andy from Jenny's arms.

Nick looked at the two people standing in front of him and thought that they truly were the best parents in the world. He had known, almost from before he could understand, that they had 'specially chosen' him and it was those words that he remembered whenever things got bad. As he grew older, Nick had also come to realise that 'specially chosen' meant that he was adopted, but he never felt like that was a bad thing. It was always something that Nick Snr. and Elizabeth celebrated and, consequently, Nick had grown up with a great sense of self worth.  On his fifteenth birthday his parents handed him the letter which Amy had written the day he was born. Nick had read it so many times that he knew it off by heart and it had become so fragile that he had had to place it in a plastic wallet to keep it safe.

Nick Snr. saw the various expressions that flickered across his son's face and he knew exactly what was going through Nick's mind. He had seen that look on Nick's face every birthday for the last nine years. From the moment he had first read the letter Nick had been determined to find both his birth parents. At twenty one he had written to the adoption agency requesting information about his parents as well as signing a Consent for Contact form. For the last three years he had hoped, waited and prayed 

for a response, but to no avail. He had learnt to keep things in perspective but, it was always on his birthday that it was the hardest.

Knowing that, if he left Nick to his own devices, he would begin to brood Nick Snr. reached out and took hold of his son by his shoulders.

"Nick," he began, making no pretence at not knowing what his son was thinking, "It'll happen when the time is right. Brooding on it won't make it happen any quicker.

Now go, and have a wonderful day with your wife and leave your son to exhaust his grandparents."

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Nick couldn't get to sleep that night. Jenny lay next to him, flat out and snoring gently. Giving up the unequal struggle, and knowing full well that he wouldn't sleep until he had read the letter, Nick got up and made his way quietly down to his den.  He crossed the room and flicked on the lamp which sat on the corner of his desk. Sitting on the chair he reached down and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out a grey folder. Flicking it open he looked at the letter which was keeping him awake. Nick leant back in his chair, put his feet up on the desk and started to read.   


	8. The Letter ii

**_Chapter 8 – The Other Letter_**

**__**

_Feb 17, 1976___

_My darling Son,_

_I hope that you are reading this letter when you are old enough to understand what I am going to say._

_The first thing that I want to tell you is that I love you. I don't want to give you up for adoption but everyone keeps telling me that you will have a better life with two parents who can give you everything that you need and deserve. In the end I had to agree. I wish I could keep you but it is impossible. I am only seventeen and without any support our lives would be very difficult. _

_I also want to tell you about your father. He is seventee , like me, and is a really good person. The only reason he doesn't know about you is because I didn't tell him. His mom has just died and I didn't want to burden him with anything else. His name is Steve, just like yours, and he lives in a gorgeous house by the beach. He is also the star of the football team and he loves to surf. _

_Please don't think badly of us, my darling and remember that I love you and always will._

_All my love,_

_Mom_

Nick put the letter back into the folder and sat for a while, wondering what his parents were like now. As always, when he read the letter, he did the math and realised that they would be in their early forties now which meant, he hoped, that they were still alive. A soft noise from the doorway caused him to look up to see Jenny standing in the doorway, a gentle smile playing about her lips.

"I knew I'd find you here," she said.

"You did? How?" Nick asked.

"How?" Jenny echoed, "It's your birthday, Nick. You **_always_** read the letter on your birthday."

"Okay, okay," Nick grinned, "you got me. Most of the time I can forget that it's here but on my birthday it comes to the forefront of my mind."

Jenny perched herself on the edge of the desk and said, "Sweetheart, you know the old saying, everything comes to he who waits. I know that when the time is right you will find your parents."

She stood and held out her hand, "Come on, come back to bed."

Nick rose to his feet, took his wife's hand and followed her, switching the lamp off as he did so leaving the room in darkness.


	9. The Agency

**_Chapter 9 – The Agency_**

**__**

The days unopened mail gradually decreased as Shona opened each envelope in its turn. She made three separate piles from the contents, bills, letters and completed consent forms. The bills Shona passed to the accounts section, the letters she placed on Alison's, one of her colleagues, desk and she kept the consent forms for herself. Picking them up she moved across to her own desk and switched on her computer. Whilst she waited for it to boot up Shona rifled through the forms stopping when she spotted a familiar surname, Sloan. It had been Dr. Mark Sloan who had been in ER the day she had been rushed in with the most horrendous abdominal pains she could ever remember, which Mark had quickly diagnosed as being an ectopic pregnancy. It had also been Mark who visited her many times after the life saving surgery, helping her to come to terms with her loss. She was more grateful than she could ever hope to say and he had earned a permanent place in her heart.

Shona read through the consent form and tears brimmed in her eyes. During her conversations with Mark she had come to realise just how much he loved his children and she instinctively felt that he would make a superb grandfather.  True, she couldn't be sure that Steve Sloan was related to Mark, but Sloan wasn't a very common name.

Pulling her keyboard towards her, she began keying in the information on the form. Having completed the inputting Shona moved the cursor to the tool bar at the top of the screen and clicked on the 'link' icon which would show if there was any similar information on the database. 

It only took a few seconds for the  result to flash up on the screen and Shona let out a sigh of relief as she read the names Amy Tyler and Nick Carter. Shona had been through the process enough times to know the next step. She needed to pass everything across to Daryl, her supervisor. Getting up she moved across the large, open plan office and stopped by a desk in the far corner. The man sitting behind it looked up and smiled,

"Good morning, Shona. What can I do for you?"

Holding out Steve's form Shona said, "I think we finally have a match for Nick Carter."

To Shona's delight, Daryl's jaw dropped just as she hoped it would. They'd had, over the past few years, a number of phone calls from Nick Carter asking if anyone had contacted the agency. Over that time they had got to know Nick fairly well and they had all begun to wonder if he would ever be reunited with his birth parents. Having read Amy's letter, Shona felt sad that Nick wouldn't ever know his mother but, if Steve proved to be Mark Sloan's son, then she knew he must be a good man. 

"Okay," Daryl responded, holding his hand out for the form, "let's see what we have."

He pulled his keyboard towards him and brought up the relevant information on his screen. As a supervisor, Daryl was able to access both forms at the same time,by using a split screen.  After a few minutes perusal, he nodded and said,

"Okay, Shona let's get a letter out to them both."

Moving back to her desk Shona opened a new window on her computer and began working on the mailmerge which would produce the letters she would send out to both Steve and Nick. Printing out the letters Shona checked that everything was okay and put each in an envelope, ready for posting later in the day.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Forty eight hours later two letters dropped onto the doormats of two separate households. 

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Yawning, Steve Sloan slowly walked up the stairs to the front door. He had been on a night-shift which had been unusually tedious. Personally, Steve preferred to be busy , it made the time go much faster. He opened the front door and stepped inside and as he did so he felt his foot slip a little underneath him.  Looking down he saw the mail sitting there on the doormat and he reached to pick it up. The first envelope was a piece of junk mail for Mark so Steve quickly turned his attention to the second. The first thing that he noticed was the printed address on the back of the envelope which showed that it was from the adoption agency.

Steve was a seasoned homicide detective who had dealt with many disturbing things in the course of his career. Nothing, however, had prepared him for the feelings which assailed him now. His mouth lost all its moisture and his tongue seemed permanently attached to his upper palate. A part of him wanted to rip open the envelope and devour its contents but his hands felt curiously numb and did not seem to want to obey his mental commands. A hole also seemed to have appeared in his stomach as a feeling of fear washed over him. He was still rooted to the same spot when Mark came out of his bedroom a few minutes later. 

"Steve?" he asked, coming to stand next to his statue-like son.

At the sound of his father's voice, Steve came out of his reverie and looked up.

"What's the matter?" Mark continued.

For answer, Steve held up the letter so that Mark could see what was on it.

"What does it say?"

"I don't know," Steve replied, "I haven't opened it yet."

"Are you going to?" 

"What if it isn't what I want to read?" There was a plaintive quality in Steve's voice as he spoke which almost broke his father's heart. 

"Steve, nothing can be worse than not knowing." Mark tried to be reassuring, "Once you open that envelope you will know where you stand and you will be able to deal with it. You may not like what you read but I know that you have to strength to cope."

Flashing a quick, grateful smile at his father, Steve turned his attention to the envelope in his hand. With fingers that were less than steady, Steve carefully opened the flap and pulled out the enclosed sheet of paper. For a while there was silence as Steve read and attempted to absorb the words on the sheet of paper in front of him. Despite his patience and understanding of Steve's need, Mark was almost hopping on the spot.

"Well?"

"He wants to see me." Steve spoke, reading the letter once again, "He had already signed a Consent form."

"So what happens now?" Mark asked.

"Apparently we both have to contact the agency and they arrange a meeting at a time that suits us both."

"Are you going to phone them now?" 

"No," Steve answered, "I need to sleep on it first."

Mark chuckled, "Do you honestly think that you will be able to sleep until you have made that call?"

A wry look came across Steve's face as he silently acknowledged the truth of Mark's remark. He moved across to the phone, picked up the receiver and dialled the number, very quickly replacing it. He looked across at Mark and said, "Answer phone, the office is shut until Monday. I guess I'll have to ring then."

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬ 

Unusually, for the Carter household, Nick was not the first person to rise. Jenny had woken feeling a little unwell and had decided to go downstairs and, if necessary, use the bathroom there so as not to disturb anyone. It was Saturday morning and she felt that Nick deserved a lie in. Reaching the bottom of the stairs Jenny made her way into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of cool water from the refrigerator. Sipping from the glass as she walked, Jenny entered the lounge and sat down on the large, comfortable sofa swinging her feet up onto the seat so that she was able to rest her head against the arm. She shut her eyes in the hope that that might quell the gentle but persistent roiling of her stomach. 

She awoke a while later her stomach protesting far more violently that it had been earlier and she only just made it to the cloakroom in time. Exiting it a coupled of minutes later, Jenny leant her head against the relative coolness of the wall wondering what it was that had upset her stomach so much. As she stood there, Jenny heard footsteps coming up the path and a few seconds later there was a clattering sound as the mail tumbled down the door onto the floor. 

Pushing herself off of the wall, Jenny knelt down and picked up the mail. Flicking through the envelopes in her hand, Jenny stopped when she reached a particular one.

"Nick!" she called out, then wished she hadn't as another wave of nausea flowed over her and she dropped the mail in her haste to get back into the cloakroom.

Nick was in a half daze when his shouted name penetrated his consciousness. The tone of Jenny's voice also made an impression and he swiftly jumped out of bed, dashing down the stairs. As he reached the final step, Jenny appeared out of the cloakroom looking very pale and wiping her mouth.

"Jenny, are you okay"? he asked.

"No, I feel lousy, but that wasn't why I called." Jenny replied, indicating the mail spread across the floor, "That's why I called."

Puzzled, Nick bent down and for the second time the mail was lifted from the floor. The first letter he looked at was the one from the adoption agency. Nick paled and swayed a little as he gazed at the envelope.

"Open it Nick," Jenny urged, "this could be what you've been waiting for."

Like Steve, Nick carefully opened the envelope and extracted its contents. As he read the letter a sob escaped him and a tear ran down his face.

"My father has made contact with the agency and wants to meet."

"What have you got to do?" Jenny asked.

Nick checked the letter again and said, "I need to ring the agency and they will arrange a meeting."

"Will there be anyone there today?" Jenny asked.

"I don't think so," Nick replied, "I'll ring them first thing Monday morning."

"Great," Jenny answered, diving back into the cloakroom again.


	10. The Meeting

**_Chapter 10  - The Meeting_**

**__**

Steve stood in front of the hallway mirror, nervously fiddling with his tie.

"Steve," Mark spoke, "your tie is fine, leave it alone. Everything is going to be okay. You are a good man and Nick will be able to see that."

It was over a week since Steve had received his letter from the adoption agency. Both he and Nick had contacted the people there and a meeting had been arranged at a local restaurant.

Steve looked at his watch, "I guess I'd better go."

Resting a hand on his son's arm, Mark said, "Say hi for me."

Squeezing his father's hand, knowing that the day was as difficult for him, Steve left the house.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

A similar scene was being enacted at the Carter house. Nick had been awake since the early hours, alternately pacing the lounge floor or sitting on the sofa trying to take in the days news. It wasn't just the meeting with Steve that was on his mind. The day before Jenny had come from her doctor's appointment with the news that they were to be parents again. Nick was thrilled and so was Jenny, although the constant feeling of nausea was taking the shine off it a little for her. 

"Are you going to tell Steve?" she asked, they had both taken to calling him Steve rather than the 'birth-father', which sounded so awful now that they knew a name.

"I don't know," Nick replied, "I need to find out what sort of person he is before I can decided how much, if at all, I want to let him into our lives."

"What are your Mom and Dad going to do today?" both Jenny and Nick were aware that the day would be difficult for them too.

"I think that they are planning to go out somewhere," Nick replied, "They seem to be okay with it all and they have said that they are one hundred per cent behind me. They know that I love them and whatever happens today, nothing will change that."

In an echo of Steve, Nick looked at his watch and continued, "I'd better go. Wish me luck."

Kissing him, Jenny said, "You don't need luck, my darling. If Steve doesn't see what a wonderful man you are then he must be blind."

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

As Steve drove towards his lunchtime rendezvous he had to work very hard at keeping his concentration on the road and not on the forthcoming meeting. So focussed was he, that it took a few seconds for the ringing of his cell phone to penetrate his hearing. Cursing under his breath, Steve pulled over to the side of the road and retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket. 

"Sloan here," he snapped, then closed his eyes in disgust as he heard the voice of Captain Newman come through the earpiece. 

"I need you to go to the Westside Mall, Sloan." Captain Newman said, "There has been a triple shooting. Two dead, one injured."

"Captain, "Steve protested, "You know I am going to meet my son today."

Steve had told Jim Newman of his situation and he had promised to keep him free that day, so Steve's response was not a shock to him.

"I'm sorry, Sloan," to his credit, Newman sounded truly apologetic, "but I have no-one else to send."

"Okay,"Steve sighed, knowing that the phone call wouldn't have been made unless there was no alternative, "Give me the details."

Cutting the connection, Steve sat for a few moments and then, lifting his phone back up, called the restaurant where he and Nick were to have met and left a message saying he would be a bit late, hoping against hope that Nick would wait. Moving out into the traffic, Steve drove as quickly as he could to the Westside Mall, striding to the toy store where the incident had taken place. He rode the elevator to the toy department and was out of the doors almost before they were fully open. The first thing that he saw was a woman, blood covering her left arm and upper torso, lying on the floor being tended to by two paramedics. As he watched, Amanda rose from behind the sales counter where she had been checking one of the two bodies. She looked across and, on seeing Steve, a frown creased her face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, "I thought you were meeting your son today."

"Me too," Steve agreed ruefully, "but I was the only homicide detective free when this call came in. So here I am. What have you got?"

"Two deceased," Amanda began, "One male, the perp and one female, an employee. The lady on the floor over there was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Okay, thanks, Amanda. I'll see you back at the hospital. Autopsy?" he asked, hopefully.

"Tomorrow at the earliest, Steve, "she replied, with a small grin. Steve was always trying to rush her autopsies and she never would.

Moving across to the woman on the floor, Steve stopped next to a man who was kneeling beside her holding her non-bloody hand. He looked up when he realised that there was someone there. 

"Can I have a word with you please, Sir?" Steve asked.

The man nodded and, whispering a few words to the woman on the floor, he stood. Together, he and Steve moved away allowing the two paramedics to continue with their work. 

Showing the man his ID, Steve said, "I'm Lieutenant Steve Sloan, LAPD. Can you tell me what happened here?"

"My wife and I were buying a present for our grandson, it's his third birthday soon. A young man, with a gun, appeared and threatened to shoot the cashier if she didn't give him some money. She refused and he shot her. My wife screamed so he turned on her. The security guard shot him and as he was going down his finger must have squeezed on the trigger because the gun fired again and my wife collapsed," as he finished speaking the man's voice cracked with emotion. 

"I am sure that your wife will be fine, Sir." Steve said, "She will be going to Community General and getting the best of care. I think that will be enough for now. I will see you at the hospital later. Could you just tell me your names?"

"Nick and Elizabeth Carter."

"Thank you, Sir," Steve answered, noting the names down on his pad, "I will see you later."

Making sure that Amanda and the uniformed officers knew that he was going, Steve left the scene. Knowing that Amanda would not have the autopsy reports ready until the next day Steve decided to head for the restaurant in case Nick was still there.  

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Nick pulled up outside the restaurant in plenty of time, switched his engine off and surveyed the cars around him wondering which one had brought his father there that day. He had spent so many years waiting for this moment to arrive, to meet at least one of his parents. Now that it had, he was terrified. What if he didn't like the man he was about to meet? What if they hated each other on sight? Nick could feel his breathing speeding up and his chest begin to tighten with the tension. He stopped his negative train of thought and took a few deep breaths.

"Come on, Carter," he admonished himself, "if it doesn't work out you haven't lost anything, right? You still have two really great parents, a wonderful wife and a terrific son. Get a grip!"

Not having convinced himself, but feeling a little calmer. Nick got out of his car and walked towards the restaurant. Just as he was about to enter Nick felt his cell phone vibrate silently against his hip. Reaching into his trouser pocket he pulled it out. He saw that Jenny had sent him a text message and expecting it to be a message of good luck he pressed the 'read' button. The message read,  **_Rng_****_ hm now.  V .imp. J. _ Concerned that there might be something wrong with Andy or the baby, Nick immediately dialled home.  Jenny answered almost at once.**

"Nick! Oh, I'm so glad I've got you."

"Jen, what is it?" Nick demanded, "Are you all okay?"

"We are fine," Jenny replied, "but your mom and dad have been involved in a shooting and your mom has been hurt."

"Where is she?"

"She's being taken to Community General," Jenny answered.

"I'm on my way," Nick answered, striding back to his car.

"What about your lunch?" Jenny asked.

"I can't think about that now," Nick replied, "I'll ring you when I know something."

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Steve arrived at the restaurant and rushed inside. He quickly scanned the room but was unable to see anyone who might be the person he was looking for. A waiter, seeing his indecision, asked, "Can I do anything for you, Sir?"

"Has anyone arrived for a table booked in the name of Tyler?" which was how the agency had reserved the table.

"Let me check for you," the waiter replied, moving across to the reception desk and perusing the reservations diary, "I'm afraid not."

"I see," Steve was disappointed beyond words, "Thank you."

He turned and went back out to his car. 

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Jesse Travis was sitting in the doctor's lounge drinking a well-earned mug of coffee with Mark, when one of the nurses knocked on the door and said, "Dr. Travis, we have a gunshot wound coming in. ETA, five minutes."

"Thank you," Jesse answered, draining his mug and standing up.

Mark rose as well and Jesse said, "I can handle it, Mark."

Mark smiled, "I know you can, Jess. I just need something to keep myself occupied. It might help me stop thinking about Steve."

"Okay," Jesse smiled, "two for the price of one it is."

Five minutes later, as predicted, the paramedics arrived wheeling Elizabeth Carter in on a gurney, followed closely by a man who was obviously her husband as he looked pale and shocked. Without needing words, Mark peeled off from Jesse and moved across to the man.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Mark Sloan. Why don't we have a coffee whilst my colleague, Dr. Travis, takes care of your wife?"

Leading Nick Carter off to the visitors lounge, Mark produced what passed for coffee and handed it to Nick, with an apology.

"Thank you," he said, then looking anxiously at the door, "Will my wife be okay?"

"She is in excellent hands." Mark replied, "I will go and check on her in a minute."

Putting the coffee down on the table, Nick held his head in his hands and said, "I can't believe that this is happening."

"I know **_just _**how you feel," Mark replied.

"Do you really?" Nick asked, somewhat sceptically.

"Only too well," Mark continued, with a slight grin on his face, "My son is a homicide detective and I have sat by his bed too many times to count."

"Sloan!" exclaimed Nick, "That was the name of the officer that spoke to me at the store."

"Steve?" Mark was puzzled, "but he had an important lunch appointment."

"How important?" Nick was intrigued.

"Very," assured Mark and was about to speak again, when the door opened.

"Dad," Nick spoke from the doorway, "is Mom okay?"

"I was just going to find out how she is," Mark replied, rising from his seat and moving towards the door.

He returned a few minutes later with positive news.

"She will be fine," he said, "a bullet needs to be removed, but that is very straightforward. There will be some repair work involved, but she should make a full recovery."

"Thank you, Dr. Sloan," Nick Snr. replied.

"When can we see her?" Nick Jnr., wanted to know.

"You can go and see her now, if you like, before she goes into surgery." Mark replied, "I'll take you to her."

As Nick and his father entered the room containing Elizabeth Carter, the elevator doors opened and Steve exited. The look on his face told his father everything that he needed to know.

"You missed him at the restaurant?" 

"He didn't even bother to turn up, Dad." Steve sounded despondent.

"I'm sure that there is a perfectly logical explanation." Mark tried to be reassuring, "After all, he had also contacted the adoption agency and agreed to the meeting. He must want to meet you, Steve."

"I hope so, Dad," Steve replied, "Anyway, I'm here to check up on a patient, Elizabeth Carter. She was involved in a shooting earlier on."

"She's going to be fine," Mark replied, "her husband and her son are in with her now, before she goes to the OR."

At that moment, the door behind them opened and Nick Jnr. came out. Seeing Mark he moved across to him and asked, "Dr. Sloan, is there a phone I could use? I need to make a couple of important calls and my cell phone has just died on me."

"Certainly," Mark agreed, taking him across to the nurses' station, "use this phone here."

Mark and Steve continued their conversation as Nick phoned Jenny.

"Yes, sweetheart Mom is going to be fine. She needs an operation but she will be okay. I love you too, see you later."

It was the second of his calls that gained the attention of both the Sloan men.

"Hello, is that the Bay Tree Restaurant? I had a noon reservation in the name of Tyler. I was unable to get there, can you tell me if anyone else arrived? No? Oh. Thanks anyway." Nick placed the receiver back on the cradle and turned round.

Both Steve and Mark were staring at him as if they couldn't believe either their eyes or ears.

"Dr. Sloan, is everything alright?" Nick asked.

For once in his life, Mark was utterly bereft of speech and it was up to Steve, equally stunned, to talk. He moved forward, saying, "Did I hear that you had a lunch reservation at the Bay Tree Restaurant in the name of Tyler?"

"Yes I did," Nick replied, "you just heard me talking to them."

"I can tell you something that I didn't hear you say," Steve continued, "that the name of the person you were to meet was Steve and that he is your birth father."

"How could you possibly know that……………..?" Nick stuttered.

"Because, I am the person you were due to meet," Steve replied, "I am your birth-father."

Authors Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story. It really is a great encouragement. I was very humbled, this morning, to read a review from someone who knows about adoption from a personal point of view. It made me realise that, whilst we are writing fanfiction here, there are people for whom some of our words are about their lives. So thank you for that review, it made my day in lots of ways.


	11. The Conversation

**_Chapter 11  The Conversation_**

**__**

It was Nick's turn to be stunned. He stood, looking at both Steve and Mark, unable to comprehend what he had just heard. He was about to open his mouth when the door behind them opened and Elizabeth Carter was wheeled out on her way to the OR. Nick Snr. followed, came to a halt next to his son and looked at him. He saw Nick's expression and totally misunderstood the reason for it. Reaching out, he laid a hand on Nick's arm and said, "She is going to be okay, Nick."

Seeing that Nick was unable to answer, Mark stepped in and said, "I think we'd be better off in my office."

In silence and with a myriad of thoughts rushing around their collective minds, the four men made their way to Mark's spacious office. When they were all seated, Nick Snr. looked at his son and asked, "What's going on, Nick?"

"I met Steve, Pop," Nick answered.

"But you said that you had missed your lunch date," he answered. 

"That's right, Pop," Nick replied, "but I met him here at the hospital."

"Here?" Nick's father was confused, "How?"

"He met me, Mr. Carter," Steve quietly replied.

Nick Snr, swivelled in his seat to look at Steve and realised that he was the police officer from the store.

"You are my son's father?" 

Steve smiled a little at the incongruity of the last remark and answered, "I guess I am."

Silence fell over the group until Mark spoke, "Nick, your Mom is going to be in the OR for at least a couple of hours. Why don't you and Steve have your lunch now? I'll keep your dad company."

Steve and Nick rose to their feet and as they reached the door, Mark continued, "Steve, **_don't _**take Nick to the canteen, go somewhere else." 

Grinning at his father, Steve said, "I **_wasn't going to.  _**I thought we'd go to Bob's"

"Hmm," chuckled Mark, "a fair compromise, I suppose."

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Twenty minutes later, Steve and Nick were seated opposite each other, a plate of ribs and fries in front of them both.

"You seem to be well known here," Nick commented, breaking the silence between them.

"I co-own this place," Steve replied.

"Who with?"

"Jesse Travis and my dad. We bought it after we all got caught in the bombing of the hospital a couple of years back."

"I remember that!" Nick exclaimed, a rib dripping with special sauce half way to his mouth, "Hey, wasn't it Dr. Sloan who figured out who it was that was responsible?"

"He did," Steve answered, "your grandfather is a very clever and persistent man."

"My…………,"Nick began, "I suppose he is, isn't he?"

Again there was silence for a while.

"Can I ask you something?" Steve questioned eventually.

"Sure," Nick replied.

"How long have you known that you were adopted?"

"I have always known…..er….,Steve," Nick stumbled a little over the name, "it's been a part of my life for as long as I could remember, Mom and Pop made sure of that. When I was fifteen they gave me the letter that my birth-mother, Amy, wrote to me and ever since then I have wanted to meet the both of you. I've met you, now I just need to meet Amy."

A look of sadness came over Steve's face, he really wasn't sure how to tell Nick about Amy. Although he had sent a copy of her letter with his Consent form to the agency they had not passed it on to Nick, believing that the information would best coming from Steve.  Nick saw the look on Steve's face and said, "What's the matter, Steve?"

Steve passed the envelope he had taken out of his pocket across the table. Taking the pink papet out of its envelope, Nick slowly read the letter. By the time he reached the end, tears were brimming over in his eyes and he looked up at Steve saying, "I'm never going to see Amy?"

"I'm sorry, Nick," Steve answered, "I only found out about Amy's death a short while ago."

"Tell me about her," Nick urged.

"It's a long time since I knew her," Steve responded, "but I can tell you what I remember."

The food in front of them gradually disappeared as Steve spoke of Amy. They even managed to laugh as Steve described Amy's love of the colour pink.

"So you only found out about me a short while ago?" Nick asked a little later as they sat drinking coffee.

"Yes," Steve answered, "I really had no idea that Amy was pregnant. Her parents, when they found out, sent her to live with her aunt and I never saw her again. I only found out that I had a son when I received her letter."

"And you started looking right away?" 

"Of course," Steve responded with a smile, "I had a head start with the address of the adoption agency on the back of the photo of Amy holding you."

"Do you have the photo with you?" Nick asked.

"Yes," replied Steve, reaching into his wallet and passing the photo across the table to Nick. 

He looked down at the photo and said, in a surprised tone, "That looks just like Andy when he was born."

"Andy?" Steve asked, not quite grasping the significance of Nick's comment.

"My son," he replied, handing the photo back to Steve and reaching into his own wallet for a photo of Jenny and Andy.

Steve looked down at the second photo he held in his hand and for a long while said nothing. Nick looked across at his face, a little concerned as he saw the colour fade from his cheeks.

"Steve?" he asked.

Steve shook his head a little and looked up at Nick saying, "This is your son?"

"Yeah," Nick replied, "your grandson, I guess."

An expletive, softly uttered, escaped Steve's lips although the smile hovering around his mouth as he spoke, took any sting out of the words.

"Would you like to meet him?" Nick asked softly.

"Very much," Steve answered quickly, then a thought struck him, "How are your parents with all this? Will they mind?"

"They have known since they gave me Amy's letter when I was fifteen that I wanted to find my birth-parents. I know, from what she wrote, that Amy loved me. I have never resented either of you, if anything, I was grateful for Amy's courage in giving me up and allowing my parents to adopt me. We have had a lot of conversations over the years and they know that, to me, they **_are_** my parents. They brought me up, brushed my hair off of my face when I was leaning over the john throwing up, cheered with me and cried with me," he looked across the table, "I don't need another parent, Steve."

"I know that, Nick," Steve replied, "and I wouldn't want to try. I'd like to get to know you though and be a part of your life."

"I'd like that too," Nick answered. 

Steve looked at his watch, "Your mom should be coming out of surgery soon. Do you want to get back to the hospital?"

"Yes, thanks," Nick said, standing up along with Steve.

As they moved towards the entrance, the door opened and Jesse entered the restaurant. He had fleetingly seen Amanda as he left the hospital and knew about the missed lunch.Therefore, Jesse was not expecting to see Steve with anyone and, consequently, he took no notice of Nick thinking that he was another customer. He smiled politely at Nick before looking past him to his friend and said, "Hey, Steve I'm sorry to hear that you missed out on your lunch. What are you going to do now?"

"Nothing, Jess," Steve said, his pleasure at finally meeting Nick, translating into an inability to resist teasing his friend and, giving Nick a surreptitious nudge in the hope that he would catch on.

Nick did and kept quiet.

"Nothing!" Jesse was incredulous, he knew how much Steve had been looking forward to meeting Nick.

"Well, it obviously wasn't meant to be, Jess," Steve replied, a suitably mournful expression on his face.

As Steve knew he would, Jesse rose beautifully to the bait.

"Steve," he exclaimed, "you can't just leave it! You need to ring the agency to explain, I am sure your son will understand."

"He does," Nick spoke, a distinct chuckle in his voice.

"Hmmm?" Jesse murmured, actually seeing Nick for the first time.

Nick held out his hand, "I'm Nick Carter, Steve's son."

Almost in a daze, Jesse took Nick's hand and shook it. Then realisation hit him and he turned on Steve, "You sneaky, rotten devil!"

Nick looked between the two men, impressed at the obvious friendship between them and the affection they had no trouble in showing.

"I'm sorry, Jess, I just couldn't resist." Steve smiled and continued, "Nick is Elizabeth Carter's son. I arrived at the hospital and overheard him on the phone to the restaurant, put two and two together."

A huge smile spread across Jesse's face, lighting up his features and making him seem years younger and he said, "That is great, Steve!"

"We can't stop now, Jess," Steve continued, "we are going back to the hospital to see if Nick's mom is out of OR."

"I can tell you that," Jesse answered, "she came out of theatre just before I left. The op went fine, she will be up and about in no time."

"Thanks, Jess," Steve said, as he and Nick exited Bob's.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Arriving back at Community General, Steve and Nick quickly made their way to Mark's office. Steve opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks causing Nick to canon into his back.

"I don't believe it!" Nick heard Steve exclaim.

"What's happening?" Nick wanted to know. He peered over Steve's shoulder and looked into the room, a chuckle escaped him, "Not you too?"

The scene which greeted their eyes and had caused their outbursts, was the sight of Mark and Nick side by side, tapping their way back and forth across the light grey carpet. At the sound of Steve and Nick's voices, the two men stopped dancing and looked across at their son's.

"Hi, Steve," Mark began, "we were…………er."

"We can see what you were doing, Dad," Steve replied, "I just thought that you would have been with Mrs. Carter by now. We saw Jesse and he said that she was out of theatre."

"So she is," Mark agreed, "but it will still be a while before she is settled in the ICU so I have arranged for them to ring us when."

"And the dancing?" Nick broke in, unable to keep a large grin from spreading across his face. 

"Well," his father began, "we discovered that we have a mutual love of tap dancing and Mark said that he'd teach me a new step whilst we waited."

Just as Steve was about to speak again the phone on Mark's desk rang. Scrabbling amongst the large pile of paperwork which covered it, Mark picked up the receiver and spoke, "Mark Sloan here. Okay, thanks. We'll be up in a few minutes."

The four men left the office and made their way to the ICU. Mark and Steve waited outside, allowing Nick and his father to enter alone. Steve turned to Mark and asked, 

"Okay, Dad, so what was with the dancing lesson?"

Mark returned Steve's look and replied, "We were both feeling a little tense and Nick happened to notice that picture on my wall. You know, the one from last year's benefit, where I'm dancing. I told him about the new step I taught myself and, before we knew where we were, we were up on our feet tapping away. I'm sure it could have looked a little inappropriate but it kept our minds off the two of you and stopped Nick from worrying about his wife."

Before Steve was able to speak again, the door behind them opened again and Nick came out alone, leaving his father sitting by Elizabeth's bedside.

"Is everything alright, Nick?" Steve asked.

"It's fine," he replied, "it's just that time is getting on and I ought to get home and let Jenny know what is going on."

"Jenny?" Mark queried.

"My wife," Nick answered, "she will be beside herself and I really don't want her worrying too much at the moment."

"Why?" Mark asked, the doctor in him coming out.

Nick hesitated a little, he hadn't even had the time to tell his Mom and Dad about Jenny's pregnancy yet. Then, in a split second, he decided to tell Steve and Mark. After all, he reasoned, his parents had heard about Andy first, it would be nice for his new found family to hear about this baby. He spoke, "We have just found out that Jenny is pregnant again and she is feeling pretty rough."

"Pregnant?" Steve said, whilst Mark picked up on the second word.

"Again?" 

"Yes, we already have a son, Andy." Nick replied.

Mark looked at Steve and said, "That means you're a grandfather."

"I know," Steve smiled, "Great, huh?"

"I really must go," Nick interjected, looking at his watch, "but when things settle down we will all get together."

"Here," Steve said, as Nick turned to go, handing him a card with his numbers on it, "call me."

As Nick disappeared into the elevator, Steve turned to Mark and said, "What a rollercoaster of a day, Great-grandpa."

"Tell me about it," Mark replied, putting his arm around his son's shoulder and leading him towards the nearest doctor's lounge for a coffee.

Authors Note: I am in the process of writing the final chapters to this story and they will be posted as soon as possible. I would also like to add a word to Alf, who has kindly reviewed this story.  Thank you. Your words have touched me more than I can say and I feel privileged that you have read my story. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't reply to a review this way but I have no other way to let you know.   


	12. The Surprise

**_Chapter 12  The Surprise_**

**__**

Steve brought the car to a halt just inside the large, wrought iron gates of the cemetery and looked across at Nick. He could see that his son was nervous, hell, so was he, but he did his best to quell those feelings and give Nick the strength he needed. 

"Ready?" he asked.

"Not really," Nick replied, "but I still want to do it."

**_A week earlier_**

****

Writing down an address in his notebook, Steve placed the receiver back on its cradle. For a long while he sat at his desk, staring at what he had just written. He had finally tracked down which hospital Amy had been in when she died. They, in their turn, had given him the name of the funeral home. It had taken Steve all his powers of persuasion to make them believe his request was genuine. Even then, the manager had insisted that she phone Steve with the information. Closing his notebook with a snap, Steve slipped it into his pants pocket and continued with his paperwork.

Unusually, both he and Mark were at home for dinner that evening. Steve was pre-occupied throughout the meal and conversation between them was desultory. Mark threw a number of curious glances his son's way but kept his silence knowing that, eventually, Steve would tell him what was on his mind. They moved out onto the deck to drink their post-dinner coffee and sat, in silence, looking out over the ocean. After a few minutes, Mark was about to give in and say something when Steve spoke, very quietly.

"I have found out where Amy is, Dad. The funeral home phoned me at work today."

"I'm glad," Mark said simply, for he knew how hurt and disappointed Steve had been when Amy's parents had refused to help him at all. 

Once Steve had discovered the name of the hospital where Amy had been treated, Mark made some discreet enquiries about her death. He had discovered that Amy had died from unforeseen complications after a relatively minor operation.  However, he decided not to tell Steve as he felt that it wouldn't do him any good to know. Any regrets that Steve might harbour about Amy's death were being more than compensated for in his pleasure at finding and getting to know his son. 

"Are you going to tell Nick?" Mark asked.

"Yes," Steve replied, "I think that he would want to be able to say goodbye to Amy. It will help to give him some sense of closure."

"I agree with you," Mark said, "Nick will always harbour some measure of regret that he never got to meet his birth mother, but I am sure that this will help."

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

"Ready?" Steve asked.

"Not really," Nick replied, "but I still want to do it."

Both men got out of Steve's car, Nick taking with him the small bouquet of flowers that he had bought earlier on and walked slowly, side by side, along a pretty, tree lined avenue. Steve was surprised to note that there were a number of people around them. Some were lovingly tending the graves, others were laying flowers and yet more were simply standing by the headstones either talking to their loved ones or praying for them.

After a few minutes walking, and a bit of a search, Steve and Nick stopped in front of a grave, which was set a little back from the others, with a pink granite headstone. To their surprise there was a young woman kneeling in front of it, arranging a bunch of flowers in a small vase set into the ground. She looked up at their approach and asked, "Can I help you?"

"We were looking for Amy Devaneys grave," Steve spoke.

"This is it." the young woman replied, "Did you know my mom?"

Both Steve and Nick were taken aback and, for the first time, they took in the words carved into the headstone.

**_Amy Devaney_**

****

**_Beloved wife and mother_**

****

**_Taken too soon_**

****

They became aware that the young woman was looking curiously at them. Pulling himself together, Steve replied, "Yes, I knew your mother a long while ago. We last saw each other when we were seventeen."

"Were you a boyfriend?" she asked, with sudden insight.

"Yes, I was." Steve replied, "My name is Steve Sloan, your mom and I were very close for a while."

"I'm Kathryn," the young woman answered, holding out her hand to Steve.

Both she and Nick were surprised at Steve's reaction. He gave an inarticulate sound in the back in his throat turned and walked off, stopping a few metres away from them. Following him, Nick asked, "Steve, are you alright?"

"My mom's name was Kathryn," Steve whispered, "Amy must have named her daughter after her."

Unseen by both men, Kathryn had come up behind them and said, "Your mom was called Kathryn? My mom always told me that she named me after a very special lady, the mom of her first real love."

Despite himself, Steve could not help the tears brimming in his eyes and he was unable to speak. Kathryn turned to Nick and asked, "Did you know my mom?"

Nick had to work very hard at getting the words past the lump in his throat.

"No, I didn't ever meet your mom," he said, "but I have known about her since I was fifteen."

Something in Nick's tone alerted Kathryn to the fact that all was not as she thought.

"There's something going on here that I don't understand," she said, a slight edge creeping into her voice.

Nick looked at Steve, who nodded.

He spoke again, "When she was seventeen, Amy had a baby that she gave up for adoption. That was me." 

Kathryn looked up at him and replied, "You know, I always felt that there was something in Mom's past that made her sad, but I could never figure out what."

"You're not shocked?" Nick asked, amazed at the calmness of Kathryn's reply.

Although Kathryn seemed exceptionally composed, Steve could tell, from years of interviewing suspects, that she was working extremely hard at keeping herself in check. A vein in her neck was pulsating, always a sure sign that someone was not as unruffled as they liked to appear.

"My mom was always very sad just after Valentines Day," Kathryn said, her voice a little husky as images of her mom appeared in her head, "and Pop never took her out to dinner on the 14th, it was always the 17th."

"My birthday is 17 February," Nick interjected.

 "I always thought that maybe there was a lost love somewhere in her past but, obviously, she was thinking about you."

It was Nick's turn to be overwhelmed. Over the years he'd wondered if his mother thought about him at all and to be presented with concrete proof was amazing.

Steve, by this time, had pulled himself together and said, "Do you think we could get together some time and talk about Amy? I didn't know that she was pregnant when she disappeared and I would love to know about her life since then."

"That would be terrific," Kathryn replied, rummaging in the tote bag that was on the ground next to Amy's headstone. She pulled out a notebook and wrote on one of the pages, before tearing it out, "Take my cell phone number and call me. I'm going to go now and leave the two of you with Mom."

So saying Kathryn walked towards the path and, on reaching it, turned to see the two men she had just left standing, shoulder to shoulder, gazing down at where Amy lay.

As she watched, the younger man knelt down and carefully laid the bouquet at the base of the headstone and, kissing his fingers, reverently laid them on the granite in a silent tribute.


	13. The Future

**_Chapter 13 The Future_**

**__**

Steve sat on the sand gazing towards the ocean, a gentle smile on his face and the sigh that came from him was one of pure contentment. He let his eyes wander across the undulating waves of water and sand until he was looking down at the small, sleepy bundle in his arms, Steven Nicholas Carter, his grandson who was now two months old and that day had been his dedication ceremony.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Mark and Steve had awoken early that morning, both of them quietly excited at the prospect of the day ahead. The previous nine months had been a time of re-adjustment for them both. Steve had had to come to terms with the fact that, not only was he a father, but a father-in-law and a grandfather to boot. He and Nick had spent quite a bit of time together, Steve teaching his son to surf for which he turned out to have quite a talent, although Steve was a little disappointed that Nick didn't share his other love, motorbikes. Mark, as usual, seemed to sail through the transition from father to great-grandfather. At least that was what Steve saw. What he didn't see were the nights that Mark lay awake into the small hours thinking about all the time that he had missed with his grandson. How, if Amy hadn't been so noble because of Kathryn's death, they might have had that time. Most of all though, he lay awake thinking about just how much he missed Kathryn and always would.

Both men busied themselves throughout the morning in tidying up a house which didn't need it and waiting for the food that they had ordered to arrive. The dedication wasn't until 2pm, so at just after one Mark and Steve left the caterers busily setting up and drove the relatively short distance to the church where it was to take place. They, like Jesse, Amanda and the boys, were early so they stood chatting whilst waiting for everyone else. Next to arrive were Kathryn and her father, Tony. Since meeting, at Amy's grave, Nick and Kathryn had become, in fact, what they already were in blood, brother and sister.  Kathryn had been thrilled when Nick and Jenny had asked her if she would like to be one Steven's godparents, along with Jesse and Nick's best friend, Jamie. 

Steve couldn't help grinning when, on greeting him with a kiss on the cheek, Kathryn's first words were, "Is Alex here yet?"

She had met Alex a couple of months previously, when Steven was born, and had taken a real shine to him. In fact the attraction was entirely mutual and the pair of them had become very close, very quickly.

"He's coming on straight from work," Steve assured her.

Turning to Mark, Kathryn joked, "I sincerely hope that he won't be detained, Uncle Mark." She had taken to calling Mark that as no other word seemed to fit and she couldn't bring herself to call him just Mark.

Mark grinned, "I have told the whole of LA that, on no account, are they to have any sort of accident for the next ten hours, Kathryn."

"Good enough," she replied, a huge grin on her face. 

At that moment, Nick and Jenny arrived in one car, followed closely by Nick and Elizabeth who were being driven by Jamie. Jenny's parents drew up a couple of minutes later. Of everyone there that day, they had had the hardest time in accepting Steve and Mark. Like most people, they couldn't help but like the two men, but they found the extended family idea a little hard to take. They were both only children as was Jenny, they had always had to rely on each other and they found it a little difficult to extend their thinking. Jenny knew they would get there eventually because they were good people and she loved them dearly but, in the meantime, she took care that they saw a lot of Andy and Steven without anyone else being there. 

The ceremony was to take place in a small, very pretty little church not far from where Nick and Jenny lived. When he first heard about it being a dedication rather than a christening, Jesse was a little confused. One day, during a rare quiet moment in ER, he asked Mark if he knew the difference.

"Well, Jess," Mark began, "with a christening the parents and god-parents make promises for and on behalf of the child. Whereas with a dedication, they are making promises for themselves about things they will do for the spiritual, moral and physical wellbeing of the child. Does that make sense?"

"I think so," Jesse replied, "In a christening I am saying what the child will do, but with this I am saying what I will do."

"Got it in one, Jess," Mark smiled, "you know, you should be a doctor, you really pick things up quickly."

Jesse quickly picked up a tongue depressor and brandished it at Mark who rapidly disappeared, with a laugh, through the open door.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Later that afternoon, back at the beach house, everyone commented on how beautiful the ceremony had been and that it was something they wouldn't ever forget.

Before they ate, Mark suggested that they go down onto the beach to take the obligatory photographs, a proposal which everyone agreed with. He was in his element, organising everyone into groups and clicking away. 

"Okay, Nick," he began, "let's have one of you and Kathryn together."

Kathryn came to stand next to her brother and they both looked across at Mark, who was standing with his camera hanging loosely in his hand, staring at them.

"Are you okay, Dad?" Steve asked, suddenly concerned.

Wordlessly, Mark waved his hand at where Nick and Kathryn were standing.

"Whoa!" Steve's one word exclamation had everyone turning to look.

"What?!?!" Nick asked.

"I have never actually seen the two of you standing next to each other before," Mark said, "It is quite amazing how similar you look."

Even Tony, Kathryn's father, was astonished, "Well, there is no doubt that the two of you are related."

"For goodness sake, Mark," Kathryn said, "take a photo so that Nick and I have a chance to see what we look like together."

The resulting photo had pride of place in both Nick and Kathryn's homes for many, many years.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

At one point during the celebrations, Nick found Steve standing alone in the kitchen, where he had gone to bring out some more cold drinks. 

"Steve," he asked, "is everything okay?"

Coming out of the reverie into which he had fallen, Steve looked across at Nick and answered, "Yes, I'm fine. It's just that, sometimes, I can't believe all this is happening and I have to pinch myself to make sure it's true."

"Tell me about it." Nick agreed, coming to lean against the refrigerator, "This time last year I had no idea who my real parents were and, now, I have you, Mark and Kathryn, not to mention Jesse, Amanda and the boys. Andy adores them, by the way."

"I know," Steve grinned in response, "and the boys love him. They see in him the younger brother that Amanda positively refuses to provide for them."

"I'm glad we found each other, Steve." Nick said, a serious tone in his voice, "There was always a gap my life and now it's filled."

"I'm glad," Steve responded, deeply moved, "Come on, let's get back out there before Jesse eats all the food."

"How does he keep so slim, "Nick wanted to know as the two men moved to join the rest of the guests, "when he eats so much? Has he got hollow legs?"

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

The party was winding down when Steve asked Jenny if he could take Steven down onto the beach for a while. 

"Hey, Pop," Nick said, reaching out for his son, "Can I have Steven a minute? Steve wants to take him down on the beach."

Handing his sleepy grandson over to his son, Nick Snr. watched as Steve disappeared down the stairs towards the sand.

Steve sat down on a small sand dune, not far from where he and Amy had had their fateful encounter. He looked down at Steven and traced a line with the tip of his index finger down the sleeping baby's cheek.

"Little man," he spoke softly, "you have no idea of the long road that your dad has travelled so that we can be sitting here together. One day, he will tell you, and I hope that you understand what a special person he is."

"His grandfather is no slouch either," came a voice from behind him.

Steve turned to see Nick standing there.

"I'm nothing special, Nick," Steve protested.

"When you found out about me, Steve, you could have thrown the letter away and not given it a second thought, but you didn't. Your only thought was to find your son and that makes you pretty special in my book." He sat down next to Steve and putting an arm around his shoulders continued, "I'm proud to be able to say that you're my father."

In a voice choked with emotion, Steve replied, "The past wasn't ours to share, Nick, but let's make sure that the future is."

For a while, the two men sat there in silence simply watching Steven, gently chuckling over his vain attempts stay awake. Tiredness finally overcame him and he slept, leaving Steve and Nick sitting in silence.

After a time, Nick spoke, "It is a shame that Amy isn't here today."

"Yes, it is," Steve answered, "but if she were still alive you and I wouldn't be here today. I would not have known of your existence and we might never have met. I don't know why Amy didn't search for you or why she stipulated that I should only get the letter after her death, that is something that will remain a mystery. All I do know is that we are together now because of her and that is something I will always be grateful for.

Again, silence fell between them as the regret that they both felt over the past lessening as they saw a joint future spreading out in front of them. The sun slowly disappeared below the horizon, turning the sea red with its warmth. As the first fingers of darkness began to creep across the sand, Steve and Nick stood to move back inside to where the rest of their family was waiting for them.

THE END 

Authors Note:

The story is finally finished and I am very grateful for all of the very nice words that people have written. I know I have said it before, but they are always an encouragement and never fail to cheer me up! 


End file.
